A Visit in the Night
by de yaten
Summary: Reeve normally slept like clockwork. On this night, he awoke to a silent alarm clock, the nagging dark of early morning, and a leather-clad stranger sitting on his chest. :: Loz/Reeve :: Oneshot.


Title: A Visit in the Night

Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)

Notes: This was written for a drabble request on a livejournal community. This is the more edited and slightly longer version of the story posted there. This is indeed a oneshot, but there are now some plotbunnies that I've been kicking around involving Reeve and the brothers.

Warnings/Pairings: Loz/Reeve. A bit of sexual action, nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7, its characters, nor do I claim to own them. I

* * *

Reeve awoke in the middle of the night, and it occurred to him that it was strange for someone who normally slept like clockwork to wake up so suddenly. Or he must've been awake, he thought, because he could see his clock on a shelf (2:30 AM) and hear the streets below him (silent, but for the whores and night robbers) and he could feel a familiar heavy weight press on his chest.

_Wait, what?_

He tried to lurch upwards, only to feel cold breath puffing on his cheek and find his body pinned with eyes that were familiar—too familiar, but his mind was still hazy from dreaming and couldn't quite place them. His blurred vision could only recognize that those eyes were _wrong_, very wrong, and they made his stomach twist and threaten to spill last night's dinner over his lips. They were a cat's eyes, and he was the mouse, scrambling under a heavy gaze and wondering if he could barter his way out of being eaten.

The moments ticked by, and the other's gaze never broke, the green eyes never so much as _blinked_. The idea of plucking out those eyes became very, very, pleasing to Reeve's dream-addled mind. He reached out with his hands—intent on scratching the gaze away with his fingernails, if it came to that—but could never reach the face with the offending eyes, couldn't quite grasp the smooth skin—too smooth, too perfect—and smack that damn smug smile away.

He heard a deep chuckle and shivered from the way it caused his entire body to feel numb and pinpricked.

"Who--"

"_Shhh_ _relax_."

The suggestion was cooed in his ear and—wait, was this guy _licking _him? Reeve felt something wet and altogether unfamiliar running against his jaw line and tried to turn away, only to feel his chin gripped by gloved hands and held firmly.

A groan of protest pushed past his lips, from the unfamiliar sensation and—maybe, he couldn't be sure—some unreleased sexual tension. Sure, he'd fucked a few in his day, but those were quickie-hurry-it-up-I-have-paperwork-to-do's in his office, and neither him nor his partners had the time to slowly drag their tongues from his jaw to his lips to—_fuck_—nibble gently at his earlobe.

"_You taste nice_," the voice whispered, and Reeve wanted his vision to focus so he could make out the finer details, the strong jaw line, the nose, and those _damn _eyes that were making him want to squirm deeper into his bed sheets. _"You taste_it continued, and Reeve had to strain to make out the words through his ringing ears, "…_ different than my brothers._"

Brothers. Brothers? His mind strained to focus on that word, focus on something he'd read the other day, a gang—no, a trio—of little punks with silver hair and green eyes just like S..

"Sephiroth!"

The name rang out in his empty room, and the resulting upwards reel for freedom found Reeve gasping and on the floor. He checked the clock—2:30 AM. Had he been dreaming? He must've been, because Sephiroth was dead, dead and gone, and there was nothing to worry about anymore.

_No, wait. _He took in short breaths and he began to pull the memories of his dream back. It hadn't been Sephiroth, because the muscles were too big and—his eyes squinted for detail—the hair was too short, and he was coarser than the former General, but the eyes were the very same shade of mako, and that meant something bad was going to happen.

He fumbled around for his PHS and, upon finding it, immediately punched in Rufus' number, deciding the morning would come too slowly for the urgent news.


End file.
